


Hurt

by EarlySunsetsOverEmoville (orphan_account)



Series: Honest Truth [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Blood and Injury, Depression, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, MIGHT BE TRIGGERING, Scars, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 11:06:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6236230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/EarlySunsetsOverEmoville
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It came out red and always left scars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> I was just releasing some issues when I wrote this  
> Please don't read if you're easily triggered by self harm
> 
> *Throws myself into the sunset because this is all based on me hahahahah*

Gerard remembered the first time he'd cut. The blood had seeped out of his wounds in a slow manner and was of a dark red color. He cried the first time he cut, mostly because he couldn't believe that this was what it had come down to. Gerard thought he was strong but that idea was just an idea that turned out to be very, very wrong. Cutting, in Gerard's mind, was... therapeutic.

However, he was young, naive, and scared. So much so that the very next day, he showed his wrist to the two friends that he had. They weren't large cuts, just small gashes in the skin that would leave scars, but nothing major. His friends, Matt and Ray, gasped in shock and repeated words of admonishment before embracing him a hug. 

The morning after, because Gerard and the two walked the same path to school, he paced his steps with Matt and it was a few seconds before he realized that the other's steps were becoming increasingly fast. Desperate to catch up, he called out for Matt to slow down, only to get a "Fuck off" and "Leave me alone" in return. Gerard was confused. What had he done?

"Wait! Please, stop!" He called out before running after Matt. In a state of anger, Matt whipped around and growled out, "I don't want you anywhere near me! Just stay away!" Matt walked away fuming. 

Gerard was scared. He hated it when people yelled at him. He already had enough of that to deal with at home. Ray, Matt's older brother, had a look of sadness on his face and he whispered an apology before leaving to chase after the other. The two boys had left and Gerard was alone.

Over the next week, Gerard would see the brothers walking the same path, but out of fear, he avoided them. When he finally mustered up the courage, Gerard walked beside Ray, and quietly blurted out, "Wh- why is Matt so mad at me?"

Ray let out a sigh and then spoke. "Matt's angry because you cut yourself. He thinks you shouldn't have done that because our parents are divorced, so we deal with a lot of hardships at home, but you don't see him cutting his wrists. Gerard," Ray paused, "Matt hates you now." 

Gerard was stopped dead in his tracks at Ray's words. The other was too busy thinking to notice that Gerard wasn't with him. That night, Gerard cut his wrist again before crying himself to sleep.

In the span of one week, Gerard had lost the only two friends he had. He was alone again. Gerard was always fucking alone. No ever stayed. Everyone always left. And even though he expected it, he still hadn't gotten used to it. It never made the pain hurt any less. It was his fault anyways. He wasn't good enough for anyone to stay with.

Two years later, Gerard was still cutting. It had now spread down to his thighs. He found that cutting deep on his thighs instead of his wrists was better because that way, people couldn't see how bad he had gotten. People wouldn't worry as much.

As of late, his cuts had become longer and deeper. This was simply because he had stolen five sharp, standard, single-edged knife blades from the local convenience store. When they were in his possession, Gerard had laughed bitterly. Normal people stole things that would benefit them, that would make them happy. Gerard, well he stole things that could hurt him. It's too bad it didn't make him happy either.

The day he stole the blades, he twirled one around in his hand, looking at it with a sick glint in his eyes and a twisted smile plastered on his face. Gerard knew he was fucked up. He knew he needed help, but he really didn't give a shit. No one could save him.

Gerard used to only cut on one wrist, leaving his right one clean so that he could remember what it felt like to not have scars. One day he just got sick of it and decided to cut a long line down the skin. His right wrist was littered with cuts. The ones he made when he first started cutting were also visible. A while back, he also cut on his stomach. The cuts, however, faded away and now you couldn't tell that he ever did, unless you looked for the small, faint scars. 

On his right thigh, a name scarred the pale skin. A name that he would never forget. The person that the name belonged to, they were embedded into his mind. Gerard had spent months trying to erase them out, but they just wouldn't leave. And one morning, as he sat in the 6 am silence, he snapped. He carefully cut into his thigh, forever embedding the name, just like the face of the name's owner was forever embedded in his memory. Gerard fell asleep to a song that reminded him of the wretched person that had destroyed him.

Gerard hated his scars. He hated cutting. But he needed to hurt himself. He was sick of being so fucking sad all the time. He needed to feel something, anything. For him, the pain that he felt didn't compare to the sadness that he felt everyday. So he cut. He slit his wrists and he slit open his thighs. Besides, he cut himself so he didn't kill himself. There were a few good people in this world that gave a shit about him, so he couldn't kill himself yet. He didn't like to hurt people. It's already happened too much to him. He didn't want to cause more pain. No one deserves it.

Gerard was tired. Physically and mentally tired. He was tired of living. He was tired of himself. He was tired of being sad. He was tired of the world. Fuck, he was just so god damn tired. Gerard wished that maybe someday, he'd die doing what he does best. He wanted to die after slitting his own wrists. However, simply dying would be good enough for him. As long as he was buried six feet in the ground, it didn't really matter how Gerard Way met his end.

**Author's Note:**

> If you or a loved one are self harming in any way or struggling through a mental illness, please seek help.  
> It is absolutely imperative that you do.  
> Take it from someone who is currently trying to fight it.  
> Don't wait and let it worsen, especially to the point of suicide. 
> 
> [Thank you for reading. Stay strong, my lovelies.]


End file.
